Starky's Mark
by acmabry
Summary: Hutch is painting his new apartment - and Starsky is there to help. A story of laugh, smiles, and friendship.


Starsky's Mark

"Uh oh - umm Hutch," Starsky said with trepidation in his voice.

Hutch closed his eyes, quelling the exasperated sigh he felt welling up in him, "What now," he thought. "What has he done now?"

Hutch had just moved into his new apartment in Venice Place and, as part of the rent agreement, had agreed to give the place a fresh coat of paint. When Starsky found out, he quickly volunteered to help. Hutch tried to persuade Starsky that this was not a good idea; he was still weak and recovering from the poisoning a few weeks ago. Hutch was afraid Starsky would push himself into a relapse and end up back in the hospital. But, Starsky insisted, and Hutch finally agreed, with the stipulation that Starsky would not try to paint a lot and he would take it easy.

But, this was Starsky, who tried to paint in all the right places with Hutch going behind him, cleaning up where the energetic brunette had painted in all the wrong places. If Hutch did not care for his crazy partner so much, he would have sent Starsky back home hours ago. But, he couldn't do that, even though Starsky was driving him insane. Hutch knew Starsky wanted to do this as a way to thank him for saving his life when he was poisoned - as if thanks were ever needed between them.

So, Hutch, with infinite patience, reserved only for his infinitely impatient partner, slowly turned to see Starsky holding a paint brush - with paint dripping on the floor!

"Starsky, what's wrong now? And, put the paint brush back in the can, it's dripping all over the floor! Get a wet towel and wipe it up before the paint sets in permanently!" he said a little harsher than he intended.

Starsky quickly put the offending brush in the paint can and headed for the bathroom, throwing up his hands in frustration and anger. Frantically, he searched for a towel – only to find them still packed. So, in the way of Thinking According to Starsky, he grabbed a roll of toilet paper and rushed to where the paint was starting to dry. He knelt to the floor, trying to unroll the toilet paper as fast as he could, which he promptly dropped into the paint can and, then crashed right into the paint can as he was trying to retrieve the soggy toilet paper. Hutch tried but just could not move fast enough to stop the impending crash of Starsky and the paint can. By the time he crossed the room, Starsky had managed to get paint on the floor, on the door, on him, and the surrounding area – but not a bit on the wall it was intended to go to.

Hutch started to remind Starsky again about being careful, until he looked down and saw more paint on, of all places, the top of Starsky's head. That curly brunette head of hair had managed to get eggshell white paint all over the top of it. Hutch sighed again knowing that if anyone were to get paint on the top of their head, it would be David Michael Starsky, his partner, confidant, sometime child, but all-time best friend. "Starsky," he started, "you have to be careful! And, how in the world did you get paint on the top of your head?"

Starsky looked up at Hutch with such innocence that Hutch could not help but smile. "Well, I was gonna start painting this wall – but couldn't tell if it had been done – so I bent over to check and the paint was wet – that musta been how I got paint on my head, and then I dripped a little on the floor and my hands were full of the paint brush and can and I didn't know what to do! That's when I called you. M'sorry Hutch, didn't mean to make such a mess."

Hutch softened, knowing that Starsky really was trying to help. "Well buddy, the toilet paper is soaked with paint, so that's not going to work." Reaching a hand down, Hutch gently pulled his paint splattered partner up off the floor. "Go in the kitchen, there are some paint rags in there. Get them wet and we'll clean this up – together." Which is exactly how they worked - one might make a mess or create some trouble but together they would take care of the problem and make it right.

At the mention of the kitchen, Starsky brightened and dashed off in that direction. "Great, I'm hungry; I'll grab a snack while I'm in there. This painting stuff works up a killer appetite! Hey Hutch," Starsky said as he strutted to the kitchen, "ya want somethin? I'm sure there's some granola or liver or something like that you would want."

Hutch, marveling at the energy of his partner, looked up to tell him no thanks and that he needed the wet towels first. But, what he saw instead made him realize that for sure the next time he painted, he would do it in the middle of the night without his partner…whose white painted footsteps followed Starsky all the way to the kitchen.

Finally, they were down to getting the bedroom area painted. Hutch had decided on using light brown paint and stain on the posts in the apartment and the kitchen area. It matched the bathroom and other areas that had wood walls. Hutch had decided that the bedroom area would have the eggshell white walls, but it was Starsky who suggested painting a large area between the ceiling and the wall the same light brown stain – which would bring all the rooms together. So, with step ladders and brushes in hand, they worked on getting the bedroom painted. Starsky insisted on climbing the step ladder to paint the strip, saying his klutzy partner would fall off and make a bigger mess than him. Hutch agreed, but kept a close eye on Starsky, knowing he was tiring more and more.

Finally, after all the painting was done and cleaned up, Starsky announced that it was truly time for food which, of course, meant pizza. Later, contented and full, Hutch looked around the apartment and wondered at how he already felt at home. Even though there were boxes still to unpack and some furniture to arrange, he was settling in and feeling safe.

"Hey Blondie," Starsky called to him, "when is your piano being delivered?" Hutch, whose love for music was deep in his soul, had found an old upright for sale at a price too good to pass.

"Tomorrow, around 10 am. I'm going to have it against that wall by the door." Hutch pointed. Starsky nodded, happy that Hutch had found this piano, knowing how important music was to him.

"How you gonna get it up the stairs? It'll take a whole lotta muscle to do that ya know?" Starsky asked.

"I've hired a moving company – price was not too bad and they have the right equipment to do it. That way I'll know it's not going to get dropped or anything like that." Hutch answered.

"OK – but if you need any help, let me know." Starsky offered. Hutch declined graciously. With the painting project still fresh in his memory, he could just imagine the trouble Starsky could cause helping move a piano.

As if on cue, Starsky let out a yawn huge enough to crack his jaws. With a start, Hutch realized how late it was and knew Starsky needed to get some rest. Even though the poisoning had happened months ago, Starsky still tired easily, even if he would not admit it.

"Hey, you want to crash here on the couch tonight? Or, I take you home?" Hutch asked. The Torino was at Merl's for the weekend getting a tune-up and brake job.

"Do ya mind taking me home? I really want to sleep in my bed tonight and wake up when I'm ready tomorrow. 'Sides, if I'm here, might have to help the piano movers." Starsky looked at Hutch with a gleam in his eye, knowing full well what his partner had thought earlier when he offered to help with the piano – Hutch could be so easy to read sometimes.

Hutch smiled, knowing he had been caught. Leave it to his partner to see right through him. "Come on you knucklehead, I'll take you home and tuck you in." They proceeded to clean up and put the leftover pizza in the fridge. Hutch had thought to ask Starsky if he wanted to carry it home, but somehow knew his curly headed partner would be back over there tomorrow night.

On the drive over, the two talked about a little of this and a little of that. Their latest case was about a rogue bounty hunter and they were close to getting it solved. Hutch was learning a new way to Starsky's apartment in Westchester. Normally, they were about 15 minutes from each other, but Hutch's new apartment had increased that time to about 30 minutes. Hutch was not sure if it was good to be that far from his accident prone partner, but he had a feeling something would work out.

Lost in thought, he jumped when Starsky said excitedly, "Hey Hutch, look!" Starsky was pointing to an apartment with a for rent sign in the front yard. The apartment had wood siding with steps winding up to the front landing. And, there was a tree that looked as if it was growing right out of the apartment. Hutch smiled to himself, not putting it past Starsky to try and climb that tree.

"I'm gonna check this out Hutch, I like the way it looks. And, will be closer to your new place" Starsky said excitedly, also thinking that he wanted to be closer to his accident prone partner and this would be perfect.

Soon, Hutch was pulling into Starsky's driveway and opened the door to get out. "Hutch, it's OK, I can let myself in." Starsky told his partner.

"Nah, I don't mind going in for a few." Hutch answered quickly. "Need to make potty break anyway – all that soda is talking to me." Ever since the poisoning, Hutch had insisted on going in with Starsky and checking out the apartment. And, to be honest, Starsky did find it comforting for that extra set of eyes to make sure all was okay. Maybe, Starsky thought that was another reason he wanted to move. Home, at least this home, did not seem quite safe anymore. Reaching into his pocket for the keys, Starsky started up the steps, and was promptly cut off by Hutch, who would enter first. Starsky just smiled, watching Hutch in full mother hen mode.

Satisfied that there were no bad guys and Starsky would be safe, Hutch left and headed back to his new apartment. He passed the apartment Starsky had found and thought again that it could be a good match for his partner.

Hutch arrived and pulled the key down from the lentil. Starsky had fussed at him about this, but Hutch said it would be okay, nobody would find out where he lived and want to bother him. So, with Starsky shaking his head at Hutch, the key went on the lentil.

Once inside, he tidied up a bit more, took a quick shower and headed to bed. He lay there thinking about the day and all that had been accomplished, even with Starsky's help. Then, he glanced up at the ceiling and saw it, there in the top corner, right where he would see it every morning when he got up…a light brown paint mark on the ceiling. "Starsky," he whispered out loud, "I told you to be careful reaching up like that. Oh well, I'll get the trim paint back out and touch it up tomorrow. And, note to myself, no more paint brushes for Starsky!" Suddenly, the phone rang and Hutch quickly grabbed it, panic filling him.

"Hey…Starsky…is all okay?" Hutch asked anxiously. There were not many folks calling Hutch this time of night, but he knew it was Starsky.

Sighing Starsky said "Yes, Mother Hen, I'm fine. I called earlier to make sure you got home okay and didn't get an answer. Was gettin' worried."

Hutch smiled. Now who was the mother hen? "I must have been in the shower. Plus it takes a little longer to get here than when I was at the Canal House."

"Oh yeah, right...gotcha," a pause and then Starsky said, "Hutch?"

"Yeah Starsk?" wondering what was going on in his partner's brain as he once again looked at the paint mark on the ceiling.

"Thanks…" And with that special ESP that only these two shared, Hutch knew that Starsky wasn't just thanking him for checking out the apartment. He was thanking Hutch for being his friend, his confidant, his pal. Starsky was thanking Hutch for his life – and Hutch thanked God once again for the friend whose life he had been blessed with.

Hutch smiled and said, "You're welcome partner…anytime." And then he thought to himself, "How many times have you been there for me Starsk, how many times have you saved me, held me, and chased my demons away. How many times…"

A second or two of silence passed then Starsky said, "Hey, gonna call about the apartment tomorrow – if I get it – ya wanna help me paint it? We can go back to that paint store again ya know. Hey, maybe that cute girl that helped us out will be there, too. What was her name? Hmm, oh yeah, Wanda, that's her name. She was a cutie, maybe I'll ask her out, or, maybe she can help paint." And just like that, at three in the morning, Starsky was switching gears and making plans.

Hutch laughed at his partner, who continued to ramble on about the new apartment, paint, and Wanda. He looked again at the paint mark, listening to Starsky talk in that rapid fire way of his. And, suddenly, Hutch realized how very important that small spot of brown was. Weeks ago, at this time of the night, he was racing to the hospital with a dying partner, then he and his partner were racing all over town trying to figure out who wanted his partner dead, then he was racing across town by himself to get the dosage, to save his dying partner. Even after the antidote, Starsky was still very sick, almost dying. Hutch knew how close he came to losing Starsky, and if that had happened, there would be no Starsky, no pizza, no late night movies, no love, trust, caring or any of the wonderful things that made up his wonderful partner…and no paint mark.

As Starsky continued to excitedly talk, Hutch listened and decided the paint mark would stay. As long as he was in this apartment, the paint mark would stay. A reminder of who he almost lost; a reminder of who he still had – Starsky.

That mark would be the last thing Hutch would see at night before going to sleep, the first thing he would see when waking in the morning…that paint mark…no…Starsky's Mark.


End file.
